A Good Idea At The Time'
by Wynja2007
Summary: When Legolas invites Gimli to sail with him to the Undying Lands, the Dwarf does not expect to have to wait quite so long for the ship to be built... A (relatively) modern AU set in the early years of the 20th Century. Written for the Teitho 'Directions' challenge where it placed joint first next to Sian22's gorgeous 'Where the Sun Sails...'


It really did seem like a good idea at the time.

' _I'll take you with me, Gimli, when I sail,' he'd said. 'You can see your Lady Galadriel again.'_

'Right... thank ye for that, laddie,' I'd said, gruff, as I always was when I spoke to him. Didn't want him getting ideas, thinking I liked elves now. 'I'll go west with ye, then. Don't want you getting lost... I know you inherited your Adar's maps and compass, you couldn't find your way out of a one-door room with those...'

He laughed, but shook his head.

'In fact, that compass... it never tells you where to go, but it shows you where you need to be...'

'If you're going to put your faith in mystic mumblings like that, you really do need someone with a sense of direction along for the ride.'

'Of course.' And that small, knowing smile. 'I'm going to build a ship... it will be special, you will see, a fitting vessel to carry us over the seas to Elvenhome...'

Never trust an Elf. Even if it does seem like they have good ideas, once in a while.

You see, I thought, when he said he'd build a ship, that he meant it. That he would find some wood that a tree no longer needed, and fasten it together, maybe a bit of a swan's prow, I don't know. Something pretty that looked as if it wouldn't last an hour on a duck pond, but that would endure any manner of storms. Well, an Elvish boat, it's got to be a bit like an Elf, really... you look at them and you think, how is that creature ever going to cope in the wilderness? 'Ooh, I lost my hair tie, oh, no, where is my brush...?' But they're not like that. The hair, and the prettiness, and the silly singing... it's all a cover. Like those caterpillars that look like bird droppings so they don't get eaten... well, maybe not quite like that... but... Elves, they're silly, and pretty, and a bit feckless, and you're still going, ah, bless, look at the pretty dancing Elf when he dances right up and sticks a knife in your gizzard, smiling and singing and swishing his hair all the time...

More like how a stoat or a weasel will dance in front of a rabbit until it forgets that it's a predator coming for the kill...

Anyway. The ship.

Turns out, when he said he'd build it, he meant he'd have it built. Daddy's money, engineering. Engineering! Ha! What a word is that! Well, the engineering that went into this ship of his... When was this...? Good question, let me see... all too easy to lose track... Sixth Age, I think... yes, they'd changed the dating by then, it was... A.D. something... 1909, the actual build started. Now, wait, yes, I know how that sounds, no hold on... like I say, never trust an Elf...

Let's go back a bit, shall we?

It took a while to settle down to anything after the War of the Ring. Legolas, he had this sea-longing on him, it was like he was carrying a pack he could never put down. I could see him bowing his back under it – not at all like him.

His spirits picked up a little in Fangorn... he said the sound of the wind in the trees put him in mind of the sea, but it was obvious he was struggling. After he'd visited the Glittering Caves of Aglarond with me, I drew him aside – for although we were the only ones named in the tales that have survived of those days, we each had our friends with us, we were never alone.

'Listen, laddie,' I said. 'There's something up, you can't hide it from your Uncle Gimli... I know you're trying to get the better of it, but... you're not winning, are you?'

He'd sighed.

'No. The sea longing, I don't know how to get the better of it,' he'd said. 'They say the only cure is to sail. But I cannot – there is too much to do! And our friends are here... Aragorn will need us and, when he dies, Arwen, she will need some old friends to talk to, at least...'

'If the only cure is to sail, then you need to sail,' I said. 'Wait, if you must, until Aragorn's... gone, and then go. And I will wish you the joy of seeing the Lady Galadriel again...'

And that's when he said it, that he'd take me with him.

Yes, I know, that was back in the Third Age. If you know your history at all, you'll know there are some moments when time just stands still...

So this particular day, we'd laid Aragorn to rest, amongst all the sadness... Legolas didn't really seem to understand, poor daft Elf... don't think he ever has got the hang of mortals.

'This is how it is, laddie,' I said to him. 'Aragorn lived a full life for a Man – two hundred and ten years, that's three times what most expect... and yes, it's sad, but... look at what he did... what we helped him do... So, I expect you'll be building your ship now, yes?'

'Yes, Gimli,' he said, looking at me, and I knew he was wondering, how old was I, how long did I have left? But he said nothing of that. 'Yes, I will build a grey ship in Ithilien, and we will sail it over the seas... Only... not quite yet... Here, you are sick of heart, and sorrowing. Drink this; it will console you.'

Well, I drank the drink, and...

Never. Trust. An. Elf.

When I woke up, everything was different. Elf was there, smiling so hard he was almost vibrating with glee.

'Greetings, sleepy head!' he said. 'From America comes the tale of Rip Van Winkle who slept for twenty years... but you, my friend, have drowsed away several thousands...'

'What? What did you do?'

He gave that little, weird smile again, mysterious and creepy, but somehow pretty.

'The ship I wanted to build would have taken too long... you might not have lived to see it complete. But now... ah, now, Gimli! Work has begun... Let me show you the plans...'

'You can show me the lavatory first, Master Elf, and then a mug of beer before you go showing me any plans... and what in Durin's name are you wearing?'

'This? It is called, a top hat, and a dinner jacket; I am due at my friends the Worthings for dinner in an hour. Don't worry; I won't be late back and the servants will look after you until then. But welcome back! I think I have missed you, Gimli!'

So when he got back from his evening out, we sat and talked and caught up a bit.

'I kept you asleep to keep you young,' he said, although I hadn't been young, not really, even when first we met. 'Silvan magic. And I've been learning about ship-building, amongst other things. Ah, she will be beautiful, Gimli! A passenger liner, the biggest ever – and we will take ship on her first sailing, and part way across, transfer to a smaller boat and find the Straight Way to Elvenhome...'

'Very good, laddie. So when do we leave, eh?'

His bright emerald eyes clouded for a moment.

'Ah. Well, a ship like this one takes a little while to construct. But she's going to be amazing, Gimli... a floating city, a wonderful, wonderful thing... anyway, the magic was faltering, I thought, better wake you, so you had chance to look around you a little, see exactly what we'll be leaving now. Everything is very different.'

I harrumphed and grumbled, as I knew was expected of me, and that's when he pulled out the blueprints and told me how far he'd come with the learning and the wheedling and the sheer bloody madness of the scheme.

'So, she's building in Belfast, at a place run by Harland and Wolff... officially she's been commissioned for the White Star Line... how's that for coincidence?'

I shrugged. I'd only just woken up like some latter-day Rip Van-What's-His-Face and daft Elf is expecting me to remember some legend from before the world was round...?

I did, of course. Eärendil, all that stuff, the Silmaril and the ship in the sky... wasn't going to admit it.

'Belfast?' I asked, instead. 'Nothing to do with Belfalas, is it?'

He laughed.

'No, indeed, other than the sounds of the words. It is... well, the lands have changed. Again. Tomorrow, I will show you a map. And then we can think about getting you some clothes and things... we should go to Ireland, you'd like it, I think. Soft and green for me, and they have stories of leprechauns there... you'll fit right in...'

I didn't think anything of it at the time, but over the next few weeks – his Ireland plan being something decided, not just a whim – as I read the history and legends of the place, I found out what he meant... lobbed the book at his head and only barely missed.

'Leprechaun! Why, you, you pointy-eared, daft-haired...'

His eyes laughed at me.

'Why, Gimli!' he exclaimed. 'I do believe you've finally woken up at last! Welcome to the Twentieth Century! I've booked us passage on a steamer in ten days' time. We're going to Ireland.'

And to Ireland we went, to a big house in rambling, boggy countryside but close enough to Belfast that we could get there in half a day, if we chose.

It should have been dull, but it wasn't.

There was so much to learn, to discover in this mad new world I'd woken up to. Legolas seemed to have inherited several fortunes from his father, who had been making money on top of money for centuries.

'Adar only sailed about two centuries ago,' he said. 'Told me not to be too long, but... I wanted to build the ship. I don't know, even though I'd never heard of it, there had been no such thing as a steamer, I dreamed about it, when the sea-longing first bit me. It was as if this ship is my destiny – it has to be built, it has to sail, and without me – that sounds vain, I don't mean it like that – without my money, it won't get built. And it must, it has to. There is another fellow, he is the official designer, but he is taking all my ideas and implementing them...'

I knew it mattered to him by the way he'd got so involved, studied so hard. And he took all he'd studied, and all he'd learned, and his blueprints, and took them to the docks to look at the blasted ship... and he issued orders and gave directions and told them; to the letter. No skimming, no scraping. If you need more money, ask, just do it properly, do it once. He said it with that dangerous smile, the one that masked the pain of the sea-longing, a brittle sort of note in his voice, and the manager nodded, swallowing, and that was that, really.

So when the requests for money came in, Elf would go to see why, either gave them the money or gave them a fright, and they lurched ahead a little bit more with the build, and all seemed well again.

As well as trips out to the ship, there were other excursions, to the city, to look at the countryside, to look at the buildings in the towns... we – well, he – had money enough that, even though he kept his hair long, and I was my usual self, we were spoken to politely and treated fairly. More often than not, I was mistaken for a Scotsman – a short Scotsman, but nevertheless – and it gained me a little dignity, respect even.

And the ship got bigger and bigger, more and more complete until, one day, with huge excitement the Elf came dancing into the library.

'Time to pack, Gimli, mellon-nin!'

'Are we going somewhere?'

'Yes! The ship, she is ready! Now, we must get ourselves over to Southampton to join the vessel...'

'When she's leaving from here, not fifty miles away?'

'Yes. I'll need to spend at least a few days in London, I have my affairs to settle, all that money to put to good use... Trust me, Gimli.'

What was it, again? Oh, yes...

NEVER TRUST AN ELF...

A bad crossing back to England – don't like boats, never have, don't think I ever will – and what seemed like a long journey south. Time spent in London – dirty, smoky, unbearably poor and unspeakably snooty... even asking for directions it looked like the one you asked was weighing you up to see where you fitted.

Didn't bother the Elf, of course. Something about him, that creepy-sweet weasel-stoat smile, maybe, and they answered him properly, fully. I stayed close and glowered about me, keeping a distance between us and them.

But I didn't like London, and it seemed to dampen Legolas' spirits, too.

He'd spent a long day at the lawyers' and came back to the town house exhausted in spirits and dark of mood.

'I will be glad when we can get out into the clear air again, Gimli! You had better hope nothing happens on our voyage, for I have made arrangements to sell all I have and set up a trust to save the forests of the world; we've enough for the voyage, but if anything goes amiss, we will be left with nought but the change in our pockets...'

Of course, those were big pockets, and deep, and full... but it did make me think a little. Not about me – I was mortal, if it all went wrong, I wouldn't have that long to put up with whatever happened next... but the Elf...?

'Tomorrow, we set off for Southampton. The sea air, again, both torment and delight... Ai, Gimli! Another week, and we will be on our way!'

Then there were delays. Sister ship to the one Elf had helped build ran into troubles, needed the dry dock, our ship was evicted to make way while repairs took place... at least we'd shifted ourselves to Southampton by the time the news came, so we were out of the fog and dirt of London. But our funds were reduced, of course, and the lodgings were smaller, modest, but at the back of the town, where the land rose up and the air was fresh when it blew in from the sea, but without being so loud it brought his sea-longing fully on again.

Eventually, news came, the ship had set off, would be docking in a few days.

But when she did arrive... ah, what a mess...

There was a coal strike on, or suchlike, and there wasn't enough coal to go around, so there were ships tied up in port side by side, no room for them, no fuel for them, and there was a lot of borrowing of coal from this ship and that onto ours, and unloading and reloading going on... there were still furnishings to add, crockery, food to stow...

All this we heard when a knock at the door heralded the arrival of the Official Designer, always a worried looking lad but now mopping his brow and visibly trembling. The maid (yes, Elf could still afford a maid and a cook, we weren't that destitute) brought him in and Legolas brought out the strong spirits and told him to spill the beans.

At first it was all very English... one or two little teething problems, nothing that couldn't be sorted... a slight change to the design plans, but wouldn't have any effect on the ship, hardly... but by the time he was onto his third glass, the lad was all but weeping.

'It is terrible,' he said. 'Dreadful! She steamed all the way from Belfast with a fire in one of the coal bunkers... and it still is not entirely out... and they forgot, and loaded more coal on top of it!'

Mutely, Legolas refilled the whiskey glass.

'And... and the lifeboats...'

'What about them?' I asked. Our little grey ship was to have been loaded inside one of the lifeboats – that's how small it was – for us to retrieve later. 'Well? What about the damn lifeboats?'

He moaned.

'Gimli,' Legolas sounded calm, reasonable. 'If you look at the pictures in the paper, you can see she has lifeboats. And the article goes on to say she has more than British law requires. And the ship is designed to be practically unsinkable, the lifeboats, they are saying, are more for should other ships founder and our vessel must go to the rescue...'

Official Designer moaned again, and Legolas topped up his glass.

'Drink up,' he said. 'You'll feel better.'

Well, until the hangover set in, perhaps.

'My lord Green,' (this was how Legolas styled himself these days) 'they have slashed the number down to twenty...'

'But...there is room for thrice that; I provided the money for three score and four...'

'The most I could ever get them to agree to, my lord, was four dozen. But they said they made the decks look cluttered and kept on reducing and reducing the number...'

'And the money for them's gone, I take it?' I muttered, only to be ignored as the fellow went on.

'The boat your lordship was especially interested in, that is included, yes. But there are not nearly enough, and as for practically unsinkable, on paper... but... they have not followed the design plan accurately, and the bulkheads are not enclosed, they do not go far enough up through the decks... in fact, one could almost think it is not the same ship...'

'What can we do?' Legolas asked.

I cleared my throat and refilled my own glass.

'We can take another steamer. The _Carpathia_ will be setting off just a few days later...'

'No, Gimli, I don't want to do that! I have already waited long enough!'

'Well... my lord, if you were in a position to... to invest a little more funding... we could persuade them to add the extra lifeboats, I am sure. There is not time now to do anything about the internal works, but lifeboats could be acquired much more swiftly...'

Legolas was shaking his head.

'This is why you are here? To ask for money? Now?'

'No, Lord Green... well, yes, but... only for the sake of the integrity of your design, it has nothing to do with the company needing money...'

'I cannot.'

'But... my lord, just a few thousand... it is but weeks since you were saying you could find us ten or fifteen thousand if we needed it, and now...? It is your ship, my lord, your own pride and joy...'

'That is irrelevant. There is no more money.'

'W... what?'

'No more money. It's all gone, my friend. There's a small living allowance, and when we arrive at our destination, we have funds. But not at the moment.'

The designer drank down the rest of the whiskey and staggered to his feet.

'Then, Lord Green, I will bid you farewell. Because if you sail on this ship, I am not entirely certain you will ever see America. I was counting on you, my lord. Counting on you.'

'And you think I was not counting on you, to see all done as you promised? I think you had better go, and remember who has disappointed whom, here, and I will look to see you, on the ship, on the day we are due to sail.'

I'd heard Elf's voice like that before, like a sword drawn from a velvet scabbard.

'And now I thank you for the honour of your visit, and the maid will see you out.'

After the fellow had gone, pale and shaking worse than when he arrived, Legolas turned to me with exasperation in his eyes.

'Gimli,' he said. 'Do you know something? Never trust a designer.'

Well, we made the best of it. We had to, really, no choice. The money gone – and, yes, Elf could have gone back to the lawyers, but it would have taken too long to sort out, and we didn't have time. Days, just days to go, really. Then just hours. So we packed what we'd need for mingling with the passengers on the voyage, and from somewhere Legolas brought out a trunk from the old days, worn, but hale, still.

'Some of the magic I used on you, I used on this, also,' he said. 'Our old things are in here – our Lothlórien cloaks, your axe, my bow... we will arrive in style, as befits us, relics of the old days as we now are. As soon as I breach the seal, time will start again for this trunk. Come. Let's put it with the rest of the luggage. We'll be leaving soon.'

'Really, Legolas, what about the _Carpathia?_ She'll only be a few days behind...'

'We would have to get our little vessel out of the lifeboat and off the ship, and then onto the other! No, it is too complicated... Besides, we don't want to sail all the way across the Atlantic – just near to the Straight Way... I reckon, two days, three at the most. Four, absolutely no more than four. We will be fine.'

Yes. And... never trust an elf, did I mention that...?

So we boarded with the other VIPs amidst fanfares and fussing and parades and brass bands hiding all the not-quite-finished, not-quite-ready bits, grand staircase up five decks high, potted palms and pianos and if they'd spent half the money on lifeboats that they had on carpets, there would probably have been enough for one each...

'This is it, Gimli!' Legolas said from beside me, his voice hoarse with longing. 'Finally, we are going west, to Elvenhome and the Undying Lands!'

Suddenly I felt a bit ashamed; in all the fuss and palaver, I'd forgotten his sea-longing, the way it used to weigh him down, and I realised, he'd been living with that all these long, long centuries without anyone to talk to about it.

'Yes. Not long now, Elf.'

'Come on. I want to show you our berths,' he said, and led the way to our rooms.

'Our suites are next to each other, the best on the ship... well, I think so, I designed them for us, after all. They are not quite as rich as the staterooms, but nicer. Come and see!'

'Don't we have to wave ourselves off, or something?'

'There's plenty of time; she's still loading luggage.'

And, yes, lovely suites, every luxury, sitting room and bed room, portholes and views out... Elf was delighted.

'Whatever else has gone wrong with the ship, the interiors are good. And, look, the trunks have arrived... silly, really, all this stuff just for a few days.'

He sat himself down on the ornate couch and sighed, glancing out of the porthole. At present, all you could see was sky and chaos as the loading continued. Legolas shook his head as we watched a new-fangled automobile being winched aboard amongst shouts and wonder.

'Do you miss it, Gimli?' he asked. 'The simplicity of the old world? I've lived through it all, and I've had more chance to adjust, I think, but... it all seems fake, and false... I just want to go back to being an elf in the trees again...'

'I know. And, yes, bit of a shock for me, waking up like that... Rip Van Winkle. I won't be sorry to leave this behind... although some of the new things, the ways of cutting and polishing gemstones... I've never seen the like.'

'I might have known it would be something like that which captured your imagination!'

Somehow, amidst all the bustle and busyness, we were given a tour of the bridge. While we were there, with a few other wealthy – ha! – passengers, Legolas managed to plant his dodgy compass next to the official one.

'Keep an eye on this,' he said to the chief. 'It will tell you where you need to go, even if that is not the way you think you should.'

Well, he'd put enough into the project that nobody told him he was being a daft Elf, they smiled in that patronising sort of way some mortals have. Don't think Elf noticed, and we were all ushered out to stand in the best spot while we set off. Everyone who thought they were anyone was there, as was Official Designer, still looking a bit pasty. He tried to speak to Legolas, but the Elf was still frosty after the lifeboat incident and only glared and moved further along the rail away from him.

Then we were moving, really, and I saw Legolas' long hands clench around the rail, his head dip, his mouth form words I couldn't hear, couldn't recognise the shape of and it came to me; he was praying. He was going home, he was answering that ages-long call at last, and it had to have been a huge moment for him but, typically, he kept quiet, sharing that moment only with his meditation, eyes closed.

Which perhaps was a good thing, as there was nearly an incident as we were leaving.

One of the ships broke free and got sucked towards us, stern end swinging... tugs and things working, pulling and pushing and we got away with it, but I happened to see the sick, slack look on Official Designer's face and wondered what else he knew that he wasn't saying...

We made Cherbourg in the evening and more passengers boarded the ship, just in time for dinner.

For us, that meant a formal affair, dinner at the Captain's Table. I'd had chance, now, to get used to the formal clothes and stupid, formal manners of the day – made Elrond's table look like a bun-and-sausage-fight – but this was especially stiff and reserved, all the questions aimed at finding out how important you were, how much money you had, if you were in the marriage market... many of the fine ladies had daughters, and were keen to sing their praises to Legolas, to other unattached gentlemen at the table – even I was asked, more than once, if I had any family – the polite way of asking if I was marriage material.

'My friend has a lady waiting for him in the West,' Legolas said with a smile, finally, earning my gratitude, not that I would admit it. 'But, come, concerning what you were telling me about your daughter's seat on a horse...'

'Yes?'

'Why, exactly?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I was wondering why you felt the need to tell me. It seemed... indelicate.'

And while she was spluttering and bridling, and everyone smirking behind their napkins, Legolas smiled his predatory Elf smile and got to his feet, with the rest of the alleged gentlemen at the table, me following, to retire to drink brandy and pretend an interest in the languid conversations until we could reasonably escape to take a walk around the deck before turning in for the night.

'Queenstown tomorrow,' I said presently. 'Ireland again.'

'Yes. If all goes well, we should be there in time for lunch.'

'So... we have come all the way from Belfast, in Ireland... to London, to Southampton, to get on this blasted ship and sail to France so we can sail... to Ireland...?'

He sighed, as if I was the one being silly.

'Yes, it is a different Ireland. And you know I had to deal with the lawyers in London. And this way, we began our journey sooner. Besides which, it would have taken almost as long to get from Belfast to Queenstown. Now, come, let's go and find the lifeboat with our little ship in. You'll enjoy that.' He paused, and smiled a friendly, not-at-all-creepy-and-deadly smile at me. 'Well, I will. And it might distract you.'

We found the boat – stationed just about opposite our suites, in fact – and Legolas nodded to himself.

'Yes. When the time comes, our Lothlórien cloaks will shield us, and we will just slip away, assumed lost overboard, but really... heading home...'

He stood lost in the thought for a moment, and then gave himself a little shake.

'Home for me. And I hope, in time, for you.'

'Ah well, you know me, laddie – wherever I lay my axe, that's my home.'

Plenty of things to do on the ship, but Elf just wanted to wander about looking pretty and staring at the sea. And, because he drew every eye, lots of people came up to us but, seeing that mystic expression as he gazed out over the water, they'd then talk to me, instead.

Stewards, junior officers, asking for directions, would you believe?

'Start at the pointy end,' I told one of them, 'and walk towards the blunt end. How hard can it be?'

Quite hard, as it turns out. Once you got away from First Class, the lower decks were a warren, a maze, all kinds of corridors and rooms and stairwells...

First Class was amidships – supposedly less rocky – and as I was never very happy in boats, I felt a bit better once I realised we were, actually, pretty stable.

Considering how much water there soon was between us and land, whatever direction you took.

Second night out from Queenstown, and there's Elf shaking my shoulder. Seems like I'd only just got to sleep. I swore, but softly, mind, as he shushed me at once.

'Gimli, wake up!'

'What's the matter, Elf?'

'Come on, we need to get our ship out of the boat.'

'Hmf?' Groggy as I was, it took me a moment to remember; we were going to unload our little skiff and hide it on the deck. 'What, now?'

He laughed softly.

'No, twenty minutes ago! You've gone back to sleep twice!'

Grumbling, I waved him away and sorted out my clothes and boots, only to have something thrust in my face as I tried to leave the room.

'What's this now?' I demanded in a cross whisper.

'Your Lothlórien cloak. Put it on.'

As I did I noticed how he was dressed and staggered back in shock.

'Durin's beard, elf!'

He'd got his own cloak on, too, over leggings and the soft shoes he'd always preferred to boots, when he could. His hair braided as he'd always used to wear it, back from his face, ear tips showing. An old-style shirt, tunic and jerkin, even his bow and knives slung at his back.

It was like all those years, even the ones I'd slept though, had fallen away, and he was laughing in his eyes at me as I gaped and gawped and shook my head.

'Do you remember, Gimli?' he said. 'The days of the Fellowship, when we took the slow road towards friendship?'

'Aye. Got lost once or twice along the way, but we made it, in the end. Suppose you've got my mail coat stowed somewhere, too, have you?'

'Actually, yes. Do not worry – we're not sailing tonight. Just getting ready. I wanted to wear these, to remind me, where I came from, where I am going. Where we are going.'

So out onto the deck we went, trusting to our cloaks to keep us from notice. To be fair, though, the watch were meant to be staring out into sea – there were rumours of ice somewhere ahead – and not looking at us.

We reached the lifeboat where our ship was held. It was raised on a sort of swinging cradle assembly, covered tightly with canvas and while I was busy looking for a way to get the canvas free, Elf had leapt up and slit through the canvas all the way along.

'Come on, Gimli!' he called softly, impatience obvious in his tone. 'What are you doing down there?'

'Trying to get up there, daft Elf!'

A moment later I was covered with a snake of silver grey rope and used it to clamber up the frame and over the top into the boat, sliding down through the slit in the canvas and making it tear with a ripping sound fit to wake the dead... landed with a bump amongst oars and blankets while Legolas shook his head at me.

'When you have stopped playing, I need your help.'

Our little skiff was about half the length of the lifeboat, and even as I was reaching out to grab the prow, the sense of scale made me stop. Half the size of the lifeboat which next to the big ship was like a mouse next to an oliphaunt...

'Gimli...!'

'Sorry. Just... it's a bit of a small ship, isn't it?'

'Made from timbers from Lothlórien, woven together with all my skill and all the craftsmanship left in the world. But where we're going, Gimli, a barn door would keep us afloat and take us safely home. Now, come on!'

Well, together we wrangled the skiff up and out and over the top of the lifeboat. I'd almost forgotten how strong Elf was, him looking like a breath of wind in the sunshine anyway, but there was power there, muscles hidden somewhere under all that pretty hair and long limbs, and it was easier than I expected. Soon we had the skiff stowed in the shadows of the deck, and Elf jumped back into the lifeboat to fold over the canvas and sew a few stitches here and there along the slit to make it look almost natural again.

While this went on, I kept watch, staring out, over, down...

And then I realised something.

Not only was the liner bigger by far than our little skiff, it was taller, too.

'How are we going to launch?' I asked.

'Easy. Over the side, into the water,' Elf said, busy stitching.

'Have you seen how far down the water is?'

'It's fine,' he said. 'We'll lower on the ropes – it's hithlain, you can't get better – it'll be fine. You'll see, you won't know a thing about it...'

I grumbled and muttered at him, but he wouldn't say anything more, just laughing in his eyes as he finished the repairs.

'I need your cloak now,' he said, unfastening his own. 'To cover the skiff.'

And somehow, our two little cloaks did the trick, draped one over the prow, the other on the blunt stern, and you wouldn't have known the skiff was there unless you knew to look for the cloaks, not the boat.

'Perfect,' he said. 'Nightcap?'

'When do we go, then?' I asked. 'You said, two days, three. No more than four. Well?'

'Tomorrow,' he said, filling two tumblers with whiskey and absently swirling one round before he passed it to me. 'After dark, so we don't draw too much attention.'

'And just how are you going to get the skiff all the way down to the water level without being noticed? And then how are we going to get aboard? It's a long way to jump and if you think I'm going to be shimmying down any ropes...'

'Don't worry, Gimli,' he said. 'Let me sort all that out; you'll already be on the skiff.'

'It's going to be a bumpy ride,' I grumbled.

'You'll be fine,' he said. 'Drink up.'

So I took a sip of the whiskey and then stopped to look at him over the glass.

'I'm not going to drink this and wake up to find us docking on the jewelled strands of Elvenhome, am I?'

'Oh, Gim, you are so suspicious at times! Of course not!'

Reassured, I knocked back my drink, just in time to hear him add, 'it'll wear off long before then, twenty four hours at most...'

And then everything went fuzzy...

Never, ever, ever trust an elf...

When I woke up, the first thing I heard was crying. Just soft, and musical, like the saddest bells in the world, and I opened my eyes, finding myself wedged between a seat and the side of the boat, all lumps and bumps sticking into me, stiff and freezing cold, and the air like knives all around, a strange, almost metallic smell in the air.

Struggling, I sat myself up and realised where the crying was coming from: Elf had his head hidden in his hands, head bowed down, shoulders shaking.

'Legolas? What's up?' I said, gentle as I could, for I'd never known him cry before, not when we thought Gandalf had died, not even when we thought Merry and Pippin dead on the outskirts of Fangorn.

He stopped abruptly, tension across his shoulders, and he sniffed, sat up, didn't look at me.

'Take... take a look off our starboard side, Gimli,' he said, and, oh, Durin's beard, there was the liner, all wrong in the water, sinking, and around it these mountains and plains and lumps of ice, little bobbing things in the water in between, and one or two lifeboats rowing away from the ship like escaping beetles... didn't take it in at first.

'Is that the ship?'

'Yes, it's the ship.' His voice was dull, not patient, exactly, just... numb. Overwhelmed.

'We're not on it, we're in the skiff?' Stupid, stupid me, cold and groggy.

'In the skiff, yes, not on the ship. Everyone one else is. Was. '

Again, like he was on automatic.

'What happened?'

'Iceberg. Punched holes in the hull, and it shouldn't have mattered. Wouldn't have mattered, if they'd built it right. But they didn't build it right. And not enough lifeboats, oh, Gim, I could have got them the boats...'

'No. You tried. You gave them the money for the boats, what'd they do, spend it on carpets? Potted palms?'

He huffed out his breath and I saw it pool into a little cloud in front of his face.

Feeling a bit more awake now, throwing off the last of whatever he'd drugged me with, I managed to shift myself onto the plank seat, swing my legs over and move up so I could was near enough to pat at his shoulder, ignoring the wobble of the skiff.

'Should have waited for the _Carpathia_ ,' I said.

'Well. Perhaps.'

I shook my head. That wasn't right, he should be arguing with me. Legolas always argued with me when he wanted to feel better about something.

'Tell me about it. Today, tell me about today.'

'Today?'

Again, he sounded numb.

'Well, start with after you drugged me. What then?'

'I carried you back to your state room, packed a few things for you... put them, and you, into the boat. There were warnings of ice, I could smell it, I could hear the officers talking about the messages, but nobody seemed concerned... it worried me. So while they were busy, I lowered the boat over the side – I must confess, I tied you in, but only so you were safe... and I slid down the rope and called it to my hand and began to row.'

'So now what do we do?'

'If you're ready, we row west. Well, basically, just away from the ship is a good idea, really. But if we can find west, that will help. Just... try not to head back towards the ship, yes?'

'There is nothing wrong with my sense of direction, Elf!'

'No? Who was it got lost in the First Class dining hall?'

'Those blasted palm trees confused me!'

He smiled, tears set aside for the moment, and I heaved out a sigh.

'You're cold,' he said. 'There's a blanket for over your cloak.'

I took it from him and bundled up. It didn't really help, but he nodded.

'You look warmer,' he said.

We began rowing, paddling, away from the wreckage, the sea all shifty with ice, Legolas shaking his head as the disaster continued to unfold behind us.

'I left them the compass,' he said. 'Why did they ignore the compass?'

'That's Men for you,' I said, paddling. I had an awful feeling that when the ship went down, we'd get dragged down with it. All right for him, I supposed, he'd still get to Valinor even if it was the hard way, but me...? 'Can't help them, sometimes, no matter how you try.'

Of course, we couldn't pick up survivors, not where we were going. That made it worse, somehow. We huddled into our Lothlórien cloaks, guiltily glad to escape, and then, just as the sea ahead got swirly and rough, and the huge ship tipped up to reveal its stern, we hit a little bump, and our night turned to day, the cold dark to warm sunlight as we hit the Straight Path and for a few brief moments, we could see, as if down a tunnel, back to the world we were leaving behind.

'Look, Gimli, it's going to be all right. Eru really does have a purpose for them, after all. There is something beyond their mortality. Do you see the angels?'

Winged shapes, blue and sparkling, were swooping down over the sea, touching the little bobbing shapes. Where they connected, a brief golden glow, and the winged things lifted up, followed by what appeared to be a glittery bright butterfly. Soon the sky was full of butterflies and angels, and the terrible cries from the ocean were silenced.

A groan, a creak, and down through the ever-diminishing tunnel we saw the back end of the ship waver and begin to slide away.

'Daft name for a ship anyway,' I said, eyeing the letters on the stern for the last time. 'Whatever did you let them call it 'Titanic' for?'

Legolas sighed as the ship slipped away and the brightness of the Straight Way properly grabbed us and took us to its heart.

'I do not know,' he said. 'They wanted something imposing, magnificent... It seemed like a good idea, at the time.'

 **Notes:**

 **There are many sources on the internet with information about the Titanic and many books and film documentaries. I am particularly indebted to the following:**

 **Titanic: The Ship That Never Sank by Robin Gardiner.**

 **Titanic: Myths And Legends of a Disaster by Roger and June Cartwright.**

 **Drain the Titanic – a documentary from the National Geographic Channel.**

 **In this story the ship is used fictitiously, and while I have stayed true to the history wherever possible, any resemblance to actual passengers, crew, and designers is completely accidental and unintentional.**


End file.
